For those who walk the road alone.

Inside the rebuilt Golden Ash Tavern, a green-clad adventurer held court.

“I’m telling you! That oversized black Puffcap threw one punch. One punch! It smashed a crater this big into the ground and knocked every last one of us off our feet.”

He spread his arms as wide as he could to show the others the size of the crater.

Not everyone was convinced. A stubbled adventurer snorted and challenged him.

“Fine, maybe there really was some oversized black Puffcap. The dungeon’s crawling with all kinds of strange walking mushrooms now, so I suppose it’s possible. But the Sixth Stratum? Everyone knows the walking mushrooms only go as far as the Fifth Stratum.

“And the power you’re describing is obviously beyond anything a Sixth Stratum monster could manage. Even monsters from the Tenth Stratum would have a hard time making the kind of crater you’re talking about. If you’re going to exaggerate, at least show some restraint. Take it too far and anyone can tell you’re lying.”

The green-clad adventurer flushed bright red. He planted one foot on the table and blurted, “Every word is true! Ask my party if you don’t believe me. Go down to the Sixth Stratum right now and you’ll still see the crater! I bet you don’t have the nerve to wager on it...”

Dylan picked at his ear. The oversized black Puffcap being described at the next table sounded oddly familiar.

Surely it wasn’t the one he was thinking of.

Well, what did it matter?

He smacked his lips and drained the rich ale in his mug. It tasted infinitely better than the swill served at the Bent Willow Tavern.

And yet, he still couldn’t quite get used to it.

Dylan knew that made him sound rather pathetic, but he could hardly help it.

This was his third day back on the surface.

The reason he was sitting in the Golden Ash Tavern instead of the Bent Willow Tavern was simple.

That idiot Cole had finally slipped up where he least expected it.

Someone had reported him for stripping equipment from dead adventurers. Cole had been arrested, and his tavern had been sealed.

Everyone despised him for what he had done, but no one could have been happier about his downfall than the owner of the Golden Ash Tavern. Dylan even suspected the man might have been the one who reported him.

With the Bent Willow closed, however, Hushwind’s bottom-rung adventurers had lost their usual haunt. Not everyone could afford to drink at the Golden Ash for long, and their complaints had put considerable pressure on the people above.

Apparently, the Adventurers’ Guild planned to send someone to keep the Bent Willow Tavern running.

Few people believed a Guild employee could manage a tavern properly.

In truth, the Adventurers’ Guild’s reputation in Hushwind had almost hit rock bottom. The Guild had concealed the Dungeon Resonance and caused appalling casualties among the adventurers. Even the generous compensation paid afterward had failed to win back their trust.

Worse still, the man once again managing the Hushwind branch was Oberon, the very person responsible for the disaster.

Many adventurers could not understand what the senior officials at Guild headquarters were thinking. It was bad enough that they had not imprisoned the bastard, but they had actually restored him to his former position.

Rumors spread rapidly among the adventurers.

Some claimed that Oberon had an enormous web of powerful interests protecting him. Others said he had bribed his superiors with a massive S-grade Mana Crystal and escaped punishment that way.

The most absurd rumor was also the most widespread. According to that version, Oberon had spent ten straight days warming the beds of senior officials at Guild headquarters, then relied on his exceptional skills to win back his seat as Branch Guildmaster.

The rumors alone showed how thoroughly the adventurers had come to despise him.

Dylan did not care about the schemes of those above him. All he knew was that he would have to compromise and buy his ale from the Golden Ash Tavern this time.

Something was better than nothing, and he was hardly short of money at the moment.

He had already sent the Boss’s letter and the S-grade Mana Crystal through the Adventurers’ Guild’s courier network. He had used a red-seal dispatch, the highest class of service available. Sending that single letter had cost three gold coins.

In return, the Adventurers’ Guild would assume full responsibility if the dispatch failed to reach its recipient.

Once Dylan had completed the Boss’s request, he had gone to an intelligence broker. He paid a deposit of ten silver coins and asked the broker to find out where Bella was.

The Boss paid generous wages and handed out frequent bonuses. Somehow, Dylan had already saved almost another hundred gold coins. It was time to send the money he had little use for to his precious daughter.

He had only managed to ask after her once before, when he confirmed that she had recovered. Since then, he had never found another opportunity to learn how she was doing. Now that he had returned to the surface, he had taken care of everything at once.

When no one was looking, Dylan discreetly sipped from a Mana Potion.

He could only hope the intelligence brokers worked quickly.

* * *

Rebuilding the Hushwind Branch of the Adventurers’ Guild was an enormous undertaking.

Some time had passed since the Monster Tide, yet the Guild had only finished half the work. The Guildmaster’s Office was among the completed sections.

A light knock sounded at the office door.

“Come in...” Oberon’s slurred voice sounded as though his entire throat had been soaking in a wine barrel.

Mirabelle frowned at the Branch Guildmaster before her. He was already blind drunk in the middle of the day.

The Restoration Elixir had long since healed the damage done to Oberon’s body by the Three-Headed Serpent’s venom. However, the freshly grown skin differed sharply in color from the old patches, giving him a bizarre appearance.

Some people had already started calling him Two-Face behind his back.

“Guildmaster, this is the latest report on changes within the dungeon.”

As always, Mirabelle continued to fulfill her duties.

Oberon glanced at the report and belched. “Wh-what... what changes?”

“It concerns the ecological changes caused by the Puffcaps that have appeared throughout the first five Strata.”

“Puffcaps... Puffcaps again. Fine! I know. You... you can go.”

One look at Oberon told Mirabelle that if she left now, she might as well have never written the report.

“Guildmaster,” she repeated, placing deliberate emphasis on the title, “do you intend to keep wallowing like this? Shouldn’t you be accomplishing something and proving yourself again?”

Mirabelle had hoped to shock Oberon into pulling himself together, but she did not yet understand the whole story.

She had struck a nerve. Oberon erupted into a hysterical tirade.

“Prove myself? Do you... do you think they put me back in this seat because they still value me? That I still have a chance to... to make a comeback?

“Wrong!

“I’m just here to take the blame! They’ll pile all the resentment from the reconstruction onto me. The moment order is restored, they’ll throw me out!

“Ha... hahaha...

“They’ll probably dump me on the Isles...

“Who knows when I’ll die in the mist.

“I’m finished... My life is already over...”

With that, Oberon lost all interest in Mirabelle. He gulped down mouthful after mouthful of strong liquor, numbing his mind.

Mirabelle studied him. He truly did look beyond saving.

She could only leave, taking her displeasure with her.

As for the report, Oberon never once picked it up.

He no longer cared what happened to Hushwind or the Amethyst Deep.

All he wanted was to spend his remaining time drowning in drink before they banished him to the Isles.

At the gates of the St. Clair ducal estate, a neatly dressed young man stood before the steward.

“Steward Edmund, I have a package for Lady Elara.”

Edmund recognized the courteous young man. He was a junior supervisor newly assigned to the local Guild courier office that year, and whenever a letter arrived for the ducal estate, he personally delivered it to the door.

Two guards stood behind him. The sword-and-shield insignia on their epaulets identified them as official members of the Adventurers’ Guild.

The young man held a small sealed box in both hands. A strip of red paper had been affixed to one corner. A red seal marked the highest class of correspondence openly handled by the Guild courier office.

“For Lady Elara?” Edmund confirmed, faintly puzzled.

“Yes, a package for Lady Elara.”

The young man maintained a pleasant smile. His hands remained perfectly steady beneath the box, without the slightest hint of impatience.

How strange. Who would send Lady Elara something at a time like this?

And under a red seal, no less.

Lady Elara did not have a particularly broad social circle. Most of her acquaintances belonged to the kingdom’s nobility, and over the past year she had rarely interacted with anyone outside it.

Formal correspondence between nobles always bore their exclusive sky-blue seals.

This package had probably been sent privately by the child of another noble family.

Could it have come from Earl Roland’s child?

For all the possibilities running through Edmund’s mind, he did not keep the young man waiting long. He reached out and accepted the box.

“Thank you for your trouble, Josh.”

Josh visibly brightened when he realized Edmund remembered his name. The excitement lasted only a moment before he regained his composure, and he did not linger.

“It is my honor to serve House St. Clair. Now that the package has been delivered, please allow me to take my leave.”

With that, he departed with the two guards.

Edmund carried the package inside, but he did not take it directly to Elara. Instead, he returned to his room and brought out several magical devices.

First, he tore open the red seal. A faint ripple of mana spread through the air.

Edmund was not surprised. The seal was a simple device meant to prove that the package had not been opened in transit.

The box contained two compartments. One held a letter. The other held a Mana Crystal no larger than a ring.

Edmund recognized its grade at a glance.

S-grade.

The discovery only deepened his confusion and disproved his earlier guess that the sender was the child of another noble family. No child from a noble family would be extravagant enough to give a friend an S-grade Mana Crystal.

Curious as he was, Edmund had no intention of seeking answers that were none of his concern. He did not read the letter either.

His only duty was to ensure Lady Elara’s safety.

He examined both items with several different magical devices until he had confirmed that neither posed any danger.

He was not acting on his own authority. His Grace had granted him such permission before Edmund ever arrived at the estate.

Once the inspection was complete, Edmund put away his devices, returned the letter and Mana Crystal to their compartments, and closed the box. Then he carried it straight toward the training grounds.

* * *

The training grounds were paved in obsidian and reinforced with enchantments.

Pulses of mana from an ongoing battle rolled across the grounds. Two young mages were trading spells in the center of the arena while Elara’s magic instructor, Julian, observed from the edge.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Julian glanced back.

“Good day, Steward Edmund.”

Edmund inclined his head. “Good day, Relic Scholar.”

Relic Scholar was Julian’s rank within the Relic Society.

“What brings you here today, Steward Edmund? Have you found time to watch Elara’s lesson?”

From what Julian had observed, the steward was an exceptionally busy man, though Julian had no idea what kept him so occupied.

Of course, the question was nothing more than a greeting. Julian had no interest in prying into the secrets of the ducal estate.

The study was the only thing here that interested him.

Edmund did not conceal his purpose. “A package arrived for Lady Elara.”

Julian noticed the box in his hands. “Then I’ll call her over.”

“There’s no need. Let them finish,” Edmund said, shaking his head.

Julian returned his attention to the arena.

Calvin flung out several Magic Missiles. They curved through the air toward Elara on the opposite side.

Elara remained where she was and cast Refracting Water Mirror. A rippling mirror of water condensed before her.

She paid no further attention to the incoming attack and focused on casting her next spell.

The water mirror darted nimbly around her, intercepting every Magic Missile at precisely the right moment. It even found the perfect angle to reflect two of them back at Calvin.

To evade his own returning attacks, Calvin had to interrupt the spell he was preparing and run two steps to the left.

He had barely regained his footing when Elara’s Water Serpent came flying toward him.

Calvin tried to retreat beyond its range, only to discover that the Water Serpent had been condensed far more densely than he expected. With no other choice, he cast Mana Shield and canceled it out.

The delay gave Elara enough time to prepare yet another spell.

The battle had become thoroughly one-sided. Elara stood in place, calmly casting spell after spell, while Calvin scrambled around the other side of the arena to deal with an endless stream of attacks.

Whenever he found a chance to retaliate, the water mirror that still hovered beside Elara sent his attack flying back at him and left him in an even sorrier state.

By the end, Calvin looked ready to cry.

When Elara finally remembered to use Mire and trapped him in place, Julian brought the duel to an end.

His senior student staggered out of the mire and collapsed on the ground like a dead dog. Julian did not think Calvin had performed badly.

Under constant disruption, Calvin had completed spells far less often than Elara. Julian had expected him to lose much sooner. Instead, his senior student had somehow held out until now by bounding around like a monkey, relying on an ugly style of movement that looked nothing like the conduct of a mage.

Julian could not decide whether to feel pleased or exasperated.

As for Elara...

All he could say was that [Favor of the Elemental Spirits] was a talent even he envied.

Sometimes the heavens simply favored one person above all others. Elara had been given not only the finest birth, but also a talent of the highest order.

Calvin had lost for good reason.

“That will be all for today. Go and rest, both of you.”

Calvin still seemed dissatisfied. He muttered under his breath, “If we were allowed to use rings and potions, I wouldn’t have lost so easily!”

Julian glanced at him. “Then shouldn’t Elara be allowed to use her wand as well?”

Calvin immediately fell silent.

Neither of them had used any equipment during the duel. If Elara had brought the wand set with her large A-grade Mana Crystal, even Calvin knew he would only have lost faster.

Ignoring his thoroughly disheartened student, Julian called to Elara.

“Elara, Edmund has a package for you.”

Unlike Calvin, who still lay sprawled on the ground like a dead dog, Elara was only breathing a little harder than usual. She looked as though she had just finished a brief warm-up.

At Julian’s words, she turned toward the edge of the arena and immediately spotted Edmund holding the box.

“A package for me?” she asked in confusion.

“Boss!”

Oh no!

Inside her room, Elara hurriedly clapped a hand over her mouth.

She tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against it. Only after listening for a long while and hearing no footsteps outside did she finally relax.

She had been so happy to see the letter that she had shouted without thinking.

Its contents were simple. The sender wished to offer an S-grade Mana Crystal in exchange for any information the Relic Society possessed about the Amethyst Deep.

There was no signature, but a tiny pink Puffcap had been drawn in the bottom right corner.

Only a handful of people knew what she looked like as a Puffcap. None of the adventurers from the Silverthorn Company could possibly produce an S-grade Mana Crystal.

The Boss, on the other hand, had possessed piles of Mana Crystals in the Deep Strata. It would hardly be surprising if he had an S-grade crystal.

More importantly, the return address in the letter was Hushwind, the town beside the Amethyst Deep.

No matter how she considered it, the letter had to be from the Boss.

Did that mean the Boss had come up too?

Or at least reached the upper strata?

The Puffcap Calvin had mentioned seeing on the Fifth Stratum might very well have been the Boss. He must have asked someone else to write this letter for him!

As for why the Boss wanted the information...

It seemed perfectly natural to Elara that he would want to learn more about his surroundings.

She wanted nothing more than to rush to the Amethyst Deep and find him at once.

But she was not allowed to leave the estate.

She also desperately wanted to search for the information he needed.

But she was not allowed to leave the estate.

Edmund had only told her that the Hero Summoning had thrown the situation into turmoil, so she could not go out. He could not tell her when the restriction might be lifted.

What was she supposed to do?

Elara hugged her knees and rocked back and forth on the bed for a long time, but no solution came to her.

“For now, I should at least write a reply...”

* * *

Edmund studied Elara’s face, where happiness, apology, anticipation, and several other emotions mingled together.

Then he lowered his eyes to the letter she had handed him.

The recipient was Dylan Slyke.

A man’s name...

“Understood, Lady Elara. I’ll send it for you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Uncle Edmund.”

After Elara left, Edmund gave the sealed letter several more thoughtful looks.

He would never secretly open Lady Elara’s correspondence to read it.

But Dylan...

It appeared he would have to send someone to investigate the man’s identity and learn why he had given her such a valuable gift.

Edmund could not allow anyone with ulterior motives to take advantage of Lady Elara.

* * *

The ducal estate was not particularly far from Hushwind.

Only a few days later, Dylan received Lady Elara’s reply and read it himself.

In any other organization, a subordinate who opened a letter addressed to his Boss would be courting death.

Dylan’s circumstances were different. The Boss could not read. Even if Dylan took the letter back unopened, the Boss would only ask him to read it aloud. He would see its contents sooner or later.

Dylan put the letter away once he had finished.

It seemed the Boss’s request would be delayed for quite some time.

With the Boss’s errand out of his hands for now, all that remained was news of Bella.

Dylan immediately set off through the drizzle and mud toward the section of Hushwind where reconstruction had yet to begin.

People who bought and sold information loved hiding in such dark corners.

More than ten minutes later, Dylan entered a relatively intact building that still deserved to be condemned as unsafe.

The damp reek of mildew seeped through gaps in the warped boards. The intelligence broker sat with his legs crossed atop a crooked oak barrel.

After accepting the remaining payment of one gold coin, he casually tossed over a yellowed sheet of papyrus. A few sparse lines recorded the “information” he was selling Dylan.

“This is what you call intelligence?”

Barely ten seconds later, Dylan slapped the so-called report onto the rotten wooden table.

“What do you mean, ‘All we know is that she went to the Isles’? You have nothing about why she went, where exactly she is, or how she’s doing now! Are you playing games with me?”

The intelligence broker leisurely used a dagger to scrape dirt from beneath his nails. Dark red rust flashed along its tip in the lamplight.

“My esteemed customer, or should I call you Dylan? You must understand that merely discovering she went to the Isles required an enormous amount of effort on our part.

“As for further details, we do have them. But...”

One look at the broker’s sly grin told Dylan everything.

The bastard had not failed to find the rest. He had even uncovered Dylan’s relationship with Bella and recognized his weakness. Now he was raising the price.

Since Hushwind began rebuilding, every manner of outlaw and swindler had crept into town. The intelligence brokers here had never broken their own rules so brazenly before.

A vein throbbed at Dylan’s temple. In the end, he suppressed his anger and asked, “How much?”

The intelligence broker shook his filthy sleeve and extended two fingers.

“Two gold?”

“Twenty.”

“Why not rob me outright?”

The wooden stool shrieked across the floor as Dylan surged to his feet. He gripped the longsword at his waist and glared at the broker.

The man merely kept his thumb pointed toward the door in a clear invitation to leave. As his grin widened, folds gathered across his greasy face.

He plainly believed Dylan had nowhere else to turn.

At the same time, two figures in leather armor emerged from the back of the room. They leaned against the wall with their arms crossed and watched Dylan in open amusement.

Dylan studied all three men, but in the end, he did not draw his sword.

“Wait here while I get the money.”

He tossed out the words, turned, and walked away.

The intelligence broker’s smug chuckle followed him.

Just as Dylan’s heel was about to cross the threshold, he whirled around. The ring on his hand shone blue as he pointed at one of the thugs.

[Ice Spike]

Three spikes of ice condensed in an instant and shot toward the man.

The thug had never expected Dylan to attack so suddenly. Caught completely off guard, he managed only one step to the side, enough to evade a single spike.

The other two pierced his abdomen and thigh, hurling him backward through the flimsy wooden wall.

“You bastard! You’re dead!”

The other thug charged, raising an iron-clad spiked club.

From his movements alone, Dylan could tell that the man was probably no stronger than a bottom-tier Silver-rank adventurer like himself. In a direct fight, Dylan’s experience would actually give him the better odds.

Not that Dylan intended to fight him directly.

A gust through the broken wall caught Dylan’s blue-green cloak and sent it billowing.

[Mirror Image]

Dylan’s form blurred, then became three identical figures.

Behind the thug, the intelligence broker had just drawn his bow. He stared in disbelief. “Two skill-bearing items?”

[Pierce LV4]

He loosed an arrow, and it passed straight through the Dylan in the center.

Pop!

That Dylan burst like a bubble and vanished on the spot.

[Spinning Slash LV5]

The two remaining Dylans swept in from either side, slashing at the thug before them.

In his panic, the thug could only choose one side and block.

The clang of steel against iron disappeared beneath the rain outside.

The thug had guessed correctly, but his hesitation cost him the best moment to exert his strength. He could not bring enough force to bear to stop Dylan’s skill completely.

The longsword sliced through one arm, leaving it attached to the shoulder by only a thin strip of flesh.

“Aaaaaagh!”

His agonized scream tore through the room.

Dylan ignored the thug, who could no longer hold a weapon. With blood still dripping from his sword, he advanced one measured step at a time toward the intelligence broker, who was trembling violently in terror.

The broker had thought he knew everything about Dylan. The man was supposed to be a former Silver-rank adventurer whose strength had already begun to decline.

How could he possibly possess two skill-bearing items?

And how could he act with such decisive brutality?

Now Dylan held him aloft by the collar. The broker could only force an ingratiating smile onto his face.

“It was... it was my fault. Greed got the better of me. I’ll tell you everything, and you can take all the money on me.

“Please, just spare my miserable life...”

“Please stop. This is a routine inspection.”

Aidan adjusted the bronze badge on his chest. His iron gauntlets and chain mail gleamed coldly as he held out an arm to block five adventurers who had just emerged from the dungeon, their leather boots still covered in hyphae.

“An inspection? Why?”

The adventurers frowned. No one liked having their belongings searched, but they did not ignore Aidan. They merely waited for a reasonable explanation.

Aidan knew how unwelcome his assignment was, so he explained patiently. “We recently received a report of a marauder attack.”

He produced and unfurled a parchment bearing the clearly visible seal of the Adventurers’ Guild.

“We’re searching for equipment taken from the victims. Please cooperate. Finding the marauders will benefit everyone.”

The robed sorceress in the party scoffed and started to speak, but her captain stopped her.

They lowered their badly worn cowhide packs to the ground. Metal buckles struck the paving stones with dull thuds.

Aidan nodded to the two guards behind him. While they searched, he opened a leather-bound ledger, crouched beside the packs, and began comparing the contents item by item against his records.

Before long, one guard pulled a dwarven helmet mottled with verdigris from the bottom of a pack. A pair of iron pauldrons emerged with it.

Aidan rose without betraying any reaction and took two steps back. Beneath the shade of an elm, the commander was polishing his sword. Aidan quietly raised three fingers toward him.

Only after the Gold-rank officer reached his side did Aidan straighten and speak.

“This helmet and these iron pauldrons match equipment carried by the victims. I’m afraid we’ll have to take up a little more of your time for questioning.”

“What?!”

The adventurers reacted as though he had struck a raw nerve. A warrior carrying a heavy axe demanded angrily, “Are you saying we’re marauders?”

“I’m not accusing any of you. I’m only following orders, so please cooperate with the Adventurers’ Guild.”

Standing behind the Guild’s Gold-rank officer, Aidan spoke with neither arrogance nor deference, like an emotionless instrument of the law.

The commander drew his sword several inches from its sheath. His meaning could not have been clearer.

Before the confrontation could escalate, the party leader hurriedly stepped in front of his companions. They were only an ordinary adventuring party. He would never dare start a genuine conflict with the Adventurers’ Guild.

“Everyone, calm down. Just calm down.

“Sirs, we traded for these with the bulwark Puffcap on the Fifth Stratum. We really aren’t marauders.”

Since the man remained cooperative, Aidan offered some reassurance.

“That was my guess too, so don’t worry. We’ve already encountered several adventurers in the same situation.

“We still have to conduct the routine questioning, but no one will falsely accuse you. We released the previous groups once we had asked them a few questions.”

Hearing that they were not the first party stopped this way put the adventurers considerably more at ease.

They truly were not marauders.

Nearby, Dylan carried a large bundle on his back. Unlike the other onlookers, he did not stop to watch the commotion. He walked around the group and entered the dungeon. Adventurers heading inside did not need to be inspected.

Aidan rubbed his nose. He thought he smelled a trace of blood, but that was hardly worth noticing.

This was the entrance to a dungeon. It was perfectly normal for adventurers coming out to smell a little bloody.

He had smelled some who reeked of dung!

* * *

On the First Stratum, Dylan crouched and scraped one finger through a crack in the wall.

He hooked out a thick clump of hyphae.

Hyphae growing in the cracks had become a common sight throughout the First Stratum.

Was the Boss gradually taking control of the upper strata too?

As Dylan wondered, he followed the passage where the hyphae grew most densely.

About half an hour later, he finally found a mycelial mat inside a secluded chamber far from the established routes.

He dropped the bundle to the ground and stretched his back hard.

He was getting too old to carry something this heavy. It was sheer torment.

Dylan dumped the bundle’s contents onto the mycelial mat. The hyphae would naturally take care of the rest.

Honestly, if the other side had demanded only two extra gold coins, Dylan would have accepted the loss.

But twenty gold right from the start?

Some retired adventurers did not have that much saved for their old age!

Of course, the intelligence broker had named twenty gold merely as an outrageous opening price, expecting Dylan to bargain.

But his obvious determination to squeeze Dylan for every coin had left Dylan with no interest in haggling.

Now he had the information and had even made eight gold coins in the process.

Yet Dylan could not bring himself to feel pleased.

Bella truly had gone to the Isles.

According to the intelligence, she had apparently visited Hushwind before the Monster Tide to ask about his whereabouts.

At the time, Dylan had been smoking spores on the Fifth Stratum and rarely ventured outside. Hardly anyone in Hushwind even knew him. Those who did, including Cole, the tavern keeper, had no idea where he was.

In the end, Bella had learned nothing.

Still, the time she spent in Hushwind had allowed the intelligence broker to trace where she went afterward.

Silver Sands Bay, the territory of Glossa, one of the three great slave lords of the Isles.

Glossa was a notorious villain who abducted people into slavery.

The report claimed Bella had gone there to rescue someone?!

That left Dylan deeply worried.

Who could she possibly be rescuing from a place like that? It had to be some poor wretch who had been enslaved!

What if his daughter came into conflict with Glossa?

Was he supposed to remain here, doing nothing but praying for her safety?

Having emptied the bundle, Dylan tossed the wrapping into a corner as well and prepared to leave.

“It seems you’ve been leading quite the colorful life outside.”

“Boss?!”

This was the first time Dylan had heard the Boss’s voice anywhere outside the Fifth Stratum.

More than a minute of silence followed. Dylan was beginning to wonder whether he had imagined it when the Boss finally spoke again.

“There’s still too much delay, so we won’t waste time chatting.

“Since you’re on the First Stratum, take care of something for me while you’re there. Leave this chamber, head right, pass three intersections, and turn right again. There’s a large Slime down that way. Kill it.”

“No problem.”

Dylan nodded. This was only the First Stratum, where even the strongest monsters were no higher than LV5. He could naturally handle one with ease.

He no longer felt so confident once he arrived.

Two unscaled Puffcaps were attacking an enormous blue Slime that nearly filled the entire width of the corridor.

A Spore Cannon struck the massive Slime and blasted away a small piece, but the wound appeared almost meaningless.

Another Puffcap floated inside the Slime, its body already half dissolved.

The sight immediately put Dylan on guard.

Was this Slime really that powerful?

From the very edge of his attack range, Dylan tested it with [Spinning Slash LV5].

Not only did the strike split open the Slime, but the wind from his blade tore the wound wide enough to expose its core.

Dylan stared in disbelief. He stepped forward twice and finished it with one more strike.

So the Slime was not particularly strong. These Puffcaps were simply too weak?

Dylan knew exactly how powerful an artillery Puffcap could be. The blast just now had been so feeble that he had assumed the Slime was somehow neutralizing the damage.

What was the Boss doing?

Why were the Puffcaps on the First Stratum so weak?

[Sin of Greed triggered.]

[Skill Plundered: Archery LV3 → LV4]

[Skill Plundered: Pierce LV1 → LV2]

[Skill Plundered: Block LV3 → LV4]

[Skill Plundered: Lockpicking LV2 → LV3]

...

Evan accelerated the decomposition and erased every trace for Dylan.

Unfortunately, he had failed to plunder enough proficiency to level up Common Tongue.

Then again, he could not depend on Greed to teach him a language forever. Once Dylan returned, Evan would have him begin teaching instead.

While Dylan was away, Evan had focused his attention on two matters.

The first was connecting the Mycelial Networks across the different strata and eliminating the delay between them.

Slimes were the greatest obstacle.

To Evan’s mycelial mats, they were pests.

The trap-filled Third Stratum was the only one without Slimes. Traces of them could be found throughout the First, Second, and Fourth Strata.

Evan had to keep their numbers extremely low. Otherwise, the Slimes would damage his network and cause intermittent delays.

As for exterminating them entirely...

Unfortunately, his experience on the Fifth Stratum had taught him that Slimes could not be eradicated.

Since Evan took control of the Fifth Stratum, almost all its native monsters had been wiped out.

He had deliberately exterminated the Gnolls and Parasitic Trees. The Crystal Bats and Rock Lizards were caught in the Monster Tide. A few Emerald-Eyed Frog tadpoles had survived in the lake, but the Three-Headed Serpent’s passage finished them off as well.

Several other species with smaller populations had almost completely vanished as the Fifth Stratum’s environment changed.

The only native species that could still be found there were Caustic Slimes and Water Sprites.

They shared one particular trait. Given the right environment and a high enough concentration of mana, they could spontaneously condense into being.

It was not quite creation from nothing, but it came remarkably close.

Keeping Slime populations suppressed over the long term would require Puffcaps to clear them out day after day.

But placing overly powerful Puffcaps on the upper strata would quickly draw human attention.

Evan had therefore limited the strength of the Puffcaps on each stratum, ensuring that they did not appear too conspicuous.

The Puffcaps on the First Stratum, for example, possessed only [Spore Cannon LV2] and [Mana Storage LV2].

That was just enough for them to fight Slimes, provided they did not encounter one of the rare oversized specimens.

Evan did not care if a human occasionally killed one of the Puffcaps.

Unlike the Fifth Stratum, which served as his stronghold, his current priority on the other strata was simply to spread his network.

As long as adventurers did not destroy his mycelial mats on a large scale, Evan could tolerate them.

As for the other matter occupying his time...

In the small treasury Evan had created beneath the Marsh Zone, a Puffcap sat before a mound of low-grade Mana Crystals.

Tiny diamond-shaped scales covered its oval body. Whenever its four bladed mycelial tendrils moved, the scales rubbed together with a faint, dry rustle.

Each tendril was currently wrapped around a Mana Crystal and absorbing it.

Where the tendrils coiled, the crystals gradually turned cloudy. Webs of cracks spread through surfaces that had once been fairly translucent.

Whenever a Mana Crystal became completely leaden gray, the tendril tightened without warning. The crystal shattered into fine debris with a sharp crack.

The mechanical rhythm of breaking crystals echoed through the space. A thick layer of spent fragments covered the ground around the Puffcap.

Inside its body grew another Mana Crystal, already B-grade and still becoming purer.

This was the Puffcap Evan intended to send into the outside world.

Its skills and stats were ready. Only one final step remained: raising its symbiotic crystal to A-grade.

Evan opened its Status Panel.

[Species: Fungus: Puffcap]

[HP: 1120]

[Mana: 2560/2560]

[Strength: 52]

[Agility: 52]

[Constitution: 52]

[Intelligence: 52]

[Spirit: 1]

[Racial Trait: Spore Dispersal]

[Permanent Effects: Mycelial Network Link, Thrall, Crystal Symbiosis (skill power +64%)]

[Skills: Mana Storage LV6, Infrasonic Attack LV6, Toughness LV5, Spore Cannon LV8, Precision LV5, Dodge LV7, Scale Armor LV5, Haste LV6, Blade Lash LV5, Mycelial Reconstruction LV3, Launch LV5, Rolling Charge LV7, Stone Eater LV3, Underwater Adaptation LV4, Assimilative Absorption LV3, Mimicry LV4, Mana Sense LV6, Airflow Sense LV7, Light Sense LV4, Echolocation LV6, Detonation LV4, Hallucinogenic Spores LV6, Magic Resistance LV5, Physical Resistance LV5, Corrosion Resistance LV4]

This was practically a miniature knight already.

Evan still wanted to add skills such as Vitality Boost and Berserk, but he could no longer afford the mana consumption.

That was especially true after Sable had consumed such an enormous amount not long ago.

Aside from the genuinely useless Spirit, Evan had raised all four of the Puffcap’s basic stats as high as possible. Ordinary Puffcaps did not receive the luxury of boosted stats.

Among human adventurers, it was common to see someone at LV30 with 40 Strength.

But as a thrall Evan had created with a skill, the Puffcap could not possess a stat higher than Evan’s level.

There was a reason he had strengthened this Puffcap to such an extent and even intended to send an A-grade Mana Crystal with it.

Evan wanted to use it to see more of the outside.

Not merely to glimpse the sun, but to explore the world.

Everything Evan knew about the outside world had come from Elara’s and Dylan’s descriptions. All of it remained hidden behind an insubstantial veil.

Now Evan wanted to draw that veil aside, even if he could only experience the world through the perspective of a thrall he controlled.

* * *

“Boss, I want to leave for a while.”

Dylan’s first words after returning to the Fifth Stratum left Evan completely bewildered.

“Why?”

“You know I have a daughter. She may be in serious danger, and I can’t simply ignore that...”

Dylan gave Evan a detailed account of Bella’s situation.

He kept his delivery restrained, weighing every syllable with care. Each sentence trailed off in a hesitant pause, as though there were always something more he wanted to say.

When he mentioned the Isles, Dylan deliberately slowed his speech. His tone shifted from a statement to a tentative request, and he watched Evan’s reaction as though afraid Evan would refuse to let him leave.

Once Dylan finished, Evan recalled the rough “map of the world” he had assembled in his mind.

The Kingdom of Concord occupied the southern part of the continent, and the Amethyst Deep lay at the kingdom’s southernmost edge.

To reach the Isles from here, Dylan would first have to travel overland to a port city in the west, then take a ship from the port to the Isles.

It sounded simple, but the journey to the western port alone would take nearly a month. There was no telling how long the voyage and the search afterward might require.

Even if Dylan did not die along the way and encountered no delays whatsoever, the entire trip would take three or four months. With the slightest complication, it would be perfectly normal for him to remain away for half a year!

Who would handle Evan’s business on the surface during that time?

And what about the Common Tongue lessons he had only just decided to begin?

Evan had no intention of forcing Dylan to stay.

Nothing good came from keeping someone who wished to leave.

But...

Perhaps it was time to recruit a second Dylan?

“Wait, isn’t your daughter stronger than you? If she can’t handle the danger herself...”

Evan knew exactly what Dylan was capable of. He could handle every sort of errand without difficulty, but when it came to fighting, he was only slightly better than common fodder.

Dylan had clearly considered that problem as well. “I... intend to use my savings to hire adventurers to help.”

Hiring adventurers.

That was one possible solution.

But according to Dylan, his daughter might come into conflict with one of the three great slave lords.

What level of adventurer would be capable of helping her?

And how much would Dylan have to pay before they were willing to offend such a powerful slave lord?

Evan thought of the miniature knight that was still devouring Mana Crystals.

It was going outside to explore either way. What did the destination matter?

“Dylan, I have a suggestion. Why don’t you wait another two days...”

Nightlily Estate.

This was the heart of Vampire Duchess Eleanor’s domain. Three cities, seventeen towns, and numerous villages surrounded it in every direction like stars circling the moon.

Eleanor’s territory lay directly north of Duke Severin Voss’s duchy, though it did not lie on the empire’s frontier.

It contained no large dungeons or unusual mineral deposits. Even its soil was relatively barren, yet the territory remained indispensable to the empire.

Seventy percent of all blood plasma in the Veiled Empire was produced here.

Between more than a hundred bloodstock farms that operated day and night stretched vast fields of Mourning Lilies, all nourished with fertilizer made from corpses.

“Master, the twenty high-quality blood thralls and four wagons of blood plasma requested by the imperial capital departed this evening.

“Count Durk and Duke Barnabas are both pressing us for this month’s blood plasma, but only three thousand two hundred jugs remain in storage.

“Farm Number Forty-Five was attacked yesterday. Two lower-ranking servants were killed, and more than sixty bloodstock escaped.

“We suspect the two Elves responsible for the recent string of attacks. Viscount Arnaud is leading the effort to deal with them.

“The two thousand slaves newly purchased from the Isles have arrived at Everwave Port. One thousand six hundred and fifty-six survived the journey.

“In addition...”

Milky white petals drifted across the thick blood plasma. The estate steward stood beside the bathing pool with head bowed and hands folded over his abdomen, delivering a meticulous report on the state of the domain.

Eleanor reclined naked against the edge of the pool. Steam rising from the blood gathered into dark red droplets in the hollow of her collarbone.

One of her favored male companions stood waist-deep in the blood plasma, carefully massaging his mistress’s ankle.

“How many of the surviving slaves show promise as blood thralls?” Eleanor asked softly without opening her eyes.

“Under the new selection standards you issued, thirty-seven passed the initial screening. Five of them are Beastkin...”

Blue-gray nails suddenly dug into the edge of the pool. Blood plasma wound between Eleanor’s fingers as she raised herself halfway out and regarded her subordinate with displeasure.

“Beastkin? Every bite leaves your mouth full of fur. What use are they? Send them all to the farms.”

The steward hesitated, then bowed even lower. “Master, Count Durk specifically requested Beastkin blood thralls.”

“Ah, that barbarian...”

Eleanor brushed aside the wet hair clinging to her chest. She seemed to remember something of the sort.

“Then keep them. You don’t need to ask me about it again.

“If we lack enough blood plasma, supply Barnabas first. Durk can wait another week.

“And tell Arnaud that if he fails to catch those petty thieves, the silver clasp marking his rank as defense commander will be replaced with iron shackles.”

As she spoke, Eleanor rose from the pool. Blood and flower petals streamed down her pale skin as she walked out without bothering to cover herself.

Her male companion hurried after her with a scarlet velvet robe and draped it over her shoulders.

The steward followed close behind. “Dinner has been prepared for you.”

In a side chamber hung with dark red curtains stood a sixteen-year-old girl in a clean dress. Her complexion was rosy and her skin smooth.

This was dinner.

She was nothing like the bloodstock on the farms, who huddled beside rusted iron troughs and ate gruel mixed with blood-replenishing supplements. They were drained day and night and rarely lived longer than three years.

The girl before Eleanor was a high-grade blood thrall. She had been carefully trained since the age of ten, raised on balanced daily meals and an appropriate amount of exercise.

Sixty such blood thralls lived at the estate.

In addition to their usual work as servants, each offered the freshest blood to their mistress once a month.

As she had many times before, the girl unfastened the buttons at her collar and obediently approached.

Eleanor drew her into an embrace. Her fangs pierced the precise edge of the scar that had healed after the previous feeding.

This time, however, her mistress did not release her at the proper moment.

The girl went from silent endurance to trembling, and finally to pleading.

Eleanor remained unmoved throughout. Only after draining the last drop of blood did she lick the corner of her mouth and casually push the desiccated corpse from her arms.

The steward kept his head lowered, apparently unconcerned by the loss of a high-grade blood thrall.

“Haaah...”

Eleanor exhaled softly. Her pallid skin gradually became rosy.

Even her height, build, and facial features began to change.

In the end, she looked exactly like the dead girl on the floor.

“The summoning should begin soon. I’ll use this appearance to slip inside.”

[Stolen Guise LV10]

Unlike [Mimicry], which merely reproduced an outward appearance, [Stolen Guise] was one of the rare talents possessed by Vampires. It could steal not only the appearance of someone whose blood they drank, but also their recent memories.

Even [Reconnaissance] could not expose the disguise.

Once Eleanor reached the Kingdom of Concord, she needed only to capture an isolated ritual participant. She could then infiltrate the gathering with ease.

That was why the Emperor had sent her to assassinate the Hero.

“Has Noxfell made any moves?”

“Lord Noxfell left his residence the day before yesterday. His whereabouts since then are unknown.”

Eleanor nodded.

The Veiled Empire might be ruled by Vampires, but nearly half the dukes beneath the Emperor belonged to other races.

Noxfell, who had been assigned to eliminate the Hero alongside her, was a Shadowfiend. A Shadowfiend was an elemental-spirit aggregate that had escaped from chaos, possessed no physical body, and remained tethered to this world only by binding chains.

The two had supposedly been assigned a joint mission. In practice, each would infiltrate the site by their own methods, then launch their attacks at the same time.

As for communication or cooperation?

There would be none.